Walk A Mile
by VinnyRoxyFrankie
Summary: Takes place straight after SOF. Before you judge me, walk a mile in my shoes because then I might trust you. Probably Fax, but I'm not sure. Some very mild swearing. R&R, please.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hey, guys. I'm back. Aren't you all so pleased? Yeah, I thought so. This is my latest rambling, and, trust me, this is what they call 'spur of the moment'. I have another couple of chapters planned out in my head, but whether they come out on paper is a mystery to me. The next chapter is in the works already, though, so that's good. This is in Max's POV, just in case you are wondering at some stage or another. And the story is meant to be humerous, even though the first chapter is pretty serious. It's also shorter than what I have written in the past, but it's not too short, which is good. Hope you all enjoy this while it lasts! Oh, and sorry about the wierd lines - I can't seem to get the ruler to work, and I can't be biffed stuffing around with it!_**

**_Disclaimer - I own nothing, folks. And this will be the last disclaimer for the story, because I'm lazy and I'll forget sooner or later. But hey. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

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**WALK A MILE**

**Aden Ameryn**

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_**Before you judge me, walk a mile in my shoes,**_

_**Then, if you decide you don't like me, you are a mile away –**_

_**And you have my shoes.**_

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_No, no, no. This is not true._

They had betrayed me, it _was_ true. My flock, my family, had turned against me. They were all trying to stop me from achieving whatever it was that I was made to achieve, whether it be to save the human race or to inhabit the post-apocalyptic world after they had been destroyed. My eyes were clouded, even more so than my mind. All shreds of my humanity had disappeared, but my sarcasm and the burning anger than continued to drive me along remained.

I had been brutally beaten, unsurprising with the unfavourable odds on my side. The Erasers which had started the attack hung back, giving the familiar five full access to me. There was nothing familiar in their faces now, though; it was hate, not love, that stood out in their eyes. It was feral hatred, not the usual good humoured stubbornness that I was so used to. My wings were beating furiously to hold me up, but my fists still flew and I was still fighting despite the part of me which was ready to give up and fall down.

Angel hit me a brutal blow with her mind which sent me wheeling backwards in the air. I gasped as the breath exploded from my lungs and my skull seemed to compress from the pressure. Gazzy, who had been hanging in the air behind me, pushed me back again with a punch as if I was a human/avian volleyball. I stopped myself in the air, flitting upwards as much as I could and spinning around to see them. My brain seemed to be acting to slowly, following my body rather than controlling it.

I saw myself, staring back at me with hate in her eyes.

Fang, Iggy, Nudge, they were there as well. Hanging over me like angels of death, splattered with their own blood but mostly mine, they followed me through the sky as well.

_At least I'll go down fighting._

"So, _Maximum_," the other Max asked, her voice filled with scorn as she spoke my name, "how does it feel to know that they're _my_ flock now?"

I swept myself up with all the dignity that I had left and couldn't think of a suitable reply. So I spat in her face instead, feeling elation creep into my bones as I did so. Her features seemed to twist in disgust, moving in slow motion, and then she hit me so hard across the cheek that my teeth rattled and blood poured into my mouth. I choked and spat crimson, feeling the salty tang on my tongue as my lips were stained red. She could feel the victory though, see it too.

"_My _flock. _Maximum's _flock," she jeered, "I like the ring of that! And, as they are mine, I can do whatever I want with them."

With that, she grabbed Fang out of the air from where he had been hanging slightly behind and below her. He looked even more like the angel of death than usual, being covered in my rapidly congealing blood. She kissed him first, pressing herself against his unyielding body. I saw something light in his eyes and something similar flared in my own heart. It was rage, again, and it was all-consuming. I went to slam into the Max, the other me, but crashed into Fang as she cracked him over the head and tossed his limp body at me.

The warm weight was too much for me to bear alone, and my wings crumpled like tissue paper. I plummeted, tumbling over and over but holding onto Fang's form as I fell. I had a death grip on him as I subconsciously thought of my innards turning the sidewalk red. _Ouch._

Strong arms scooped the both of us out of the air. Strong, _hairy _arms. Arms which happened to belong to a large, furry Eraser named Ari. I was fighting once again in a moment, or at least I thought I was. Ari seemed to find this amusing, but he had no trouble holding onto me – I was weak, weaker than I had ever been before.

"Hm," he appeared to deliberate, holding out Fang with one hand around his throat as he held me against his chest with the other, "don't need him, I don't think."

Fang's eyes were open and staring at me without emotion. It was too fast – Ari was holding him one second, and in the next he was hurtling towards the ground without a thought to unfurling his wings. I caught a glimpse of his face during one of Ari's clumsy upward strokes, and saw his gaping dark eyes like wounds. And his mouth was twisted into a grin as he laughed. He was laughing as he fell – laughing the whole way down.

Ari seemed to fade out of the sky, leaving me alone once again in darkness. It was like reliving the isolation chamber, except there was no water underneath me to suspend me. I was lying on a bed of darkness which held me calmly, gently, undisturbed by my sudden movements. I wanted to fight, but there was nothing physical to strike or to have hit me back. The images were all in my mind still, causing a pain which was nearly physical.

I tore at my cheeks, turning my fingernails ragged as the pictures assaulted my head. There were tears, as well, bathing the self-inflicted wounds with salt. The other Max's face, Angel, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, Ari and Fang's hopeless eyes, they all replayed over and dragged me into madness.

_Kill me. _

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"Max!"

Fang's voice was only a whisper, but it was enough to startle me awake. I was trembling all over, but I was instantly aware of the fact that he had pinned my hands down to the floor and that my cheeks were on fire. He didn't loosen his grip even when he realized that I has alert – maybe he thought I was trying to kill myself on _purpose. _Fair enough; I had tried enough times before. I heard a sharp keening, and realized that I was making it. It cut off abruptly after that, as if I was embarrassed by my subconscious actions. Fang was watching me intently as he held my wrists tightly.

"You said my name," he commented, smiling slightly so that I caught onto the fact that he had been worried, "I thought I'd better see what you wanted this time."

"I promise that if you let me go I won't continue to shred my face," I said softly, and he released me gently. I put one hand up to my cheek, watching him stiffen abruptly, and felt the painful welts on my skin. It stung bitterly as I dashed away drops of blood which dribbled from the wounds. _Ouch. _I obviously hadn't learnt yet about self-inflicted wounds and how to stop them.

"That looks painful," Fang commented as he rummaged through his bag and pulled out that familiar bottle of antiseptic. He was gentle as he wiped some of the sharp-smelling liquid on a piece of cloth that looked as if it had once been a shirt but had been run over by a car several times and shot into, dabbing the cuts on my face. I winced and tried to pull away as it stung my eyes and the cuts, but he pushed my face around so that he could do it properly. I wondered how many times he had patched me up after I had tried to kill myself.

"You are insane," he murmured, more to himself and to me. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it, but I still felt a burst of indignant rage which made my back stiffen.

"What do you mean?" I snapped, my voice far too loud. I was surprised when none of the others even stirred. After all, this was only a few days after our escape from Itex, and the others were still wiped from the ordeal – we were currently putting as much space as we possibly could between us and the place that we had blown up. Fang, after several moments of making sure the others were going to wake up and hear out conversation, decided to answer me.

"You hear a Voice in your head, remember? That is what we call insane."

"Hey, there's a difference between having a _voice_ in your head and having a _Voice _in your head. One is the result of schizophrenia, while the other is caused by mad scientists messing with one's brain. That's one hell of a difference, actually," I replied as he packed away the things once again. I was sure that I looked like Frankenstein kitty from hell with the droopy cuts on my skin.

"If you say so, Max," Fang said, the ghost of a smile on his face. I wriggled back and leant against one of the big trees which surrounded our camping area. Fang sat down next to me, tucked his knees into his chest and rested his chin on them. We sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each with our thoughts, before the slow and strangely passive conversation started up again. It felt as if we were talking through glass – the other was always a little hard to hear, and the words took longer to process than usual. Maybe it was because of the night and my usual distractions, or maybe it was because of what had happened minutes before, I wasn't quite sure. We chatted for a little about provisions and the others before moving onto the bigger stuff – that was when the languid comfort of the situation came to an abrupt end.

"What were you dreaming about?" Fang asked, and I immediately became defensive. I shook my head, hoping to deter him, but his gaze was steady and sure – he knew that eventually I would tell him, and that was what made me give in. I sighed softly, running a careful finger over the slices on my face just to feel the sting.

"The other Maximum was back, taking my place. The Flock – they were beating me up, and I was sure I was going to die. Ari was there, and you," I said, not daring to mention his role in my nightmare. It seemed too realistic, and I could almost hear his laughing in my ears.

"Good to know you dream about me," Fang said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. I slapped him on the shoulder and he laughed softly, holding up his hands in surrender.

"What was I doing in your dream?" he asked, his features blank. I wondered if I should tell the truth or not and then decided…_not. _

"You don't want to know," I assured him, examining my nearly-non existent nails, which were always bitten to the quick, dirty and bleeding.

"I _do _want to know, though."

"I meant 'you don't want to know' as in 'I don't want to tell you', not that you actually don't want to know," I said with a smile. Fang didn't smile back – he looked very serious, in fact.

"Why don't you just tell me?" he asked, the barest hint of frustration in his voice. I attempted a smile and thrust my still-trembling hands deeper into my pockets.

"I'm fine – really. Absolutely fine. No lasting repercussions. It was just a dream, I'm telling you."

"You know as well as I do that you haven't really been acting yourself since we got out of Itex. You're not as capable, not as confident, definitely not as bossy. The others have noticed it too – we need something to do. The peace and quiet is beginning to get to us, because we all know that it won't last."

"How do you know that?" I asked defiantly, unnerved by how well he was reading me, "the Voice might never come back. The Erasers might just disappear. Maybe there never was a bomb that was going to go off and kill lots of people. Maybe this is all a joke, a dream. Maybe I'll wake up any moment, and I'm really a normal girl, and all of you don't really exist-"

"Max, I-" Fang began, cutting me off from my little rant. He looked slightly alarmed by my sudden outburst. Maybe because I was delusional, or at least sounded as if I was.

"Look, I'm _fine! _What are you, my caretaker? I don't need a mother, especially not you," I snarled, standing up so abruptly that I almost fell over again.

"_You _need someone to look after you more than the rest of us! None of the others hear Voices in their heads! They might have skills and talents beyond the norm, but they don't have the weight of the world resting on their shoulders!"

"Maybe the Voice doesn't really exist. Maybe I'm insane, and just imagining it!" I snapped at him, turning away.

"You couldn't have imagined those things, especially not the pains in you head. You are not insane, Maximum. In denial, maybe, but not insane," Fang added quietly, his voice calm once again. I could hear the frustration welling beneath the surface of his skin though, making the air thrum with tension.

"I. Am. Fine. Okay?" I asked. My voice sounded low and dangerous, even to me. I stepped away from him, thinking of making a grand exit. I ran to take off, unfurling my wings with a snap. I only got about ten feet in the air before pain struck me down like a giant's hand. I hit the ground with a dull thud, pain igniting in every inch of me. I think I cried out, but the Voice's, er…voice, was deafeningly loud in my head. I began to wonder subconsciously how I had ever started to doubt that the Voice was real.

**_In denial, Maximum? You're about to see the reality of life._**

I gagged as a sickening smell floated into my nostrils. My head was black, but I could smell metal and fire and gasoline and terror, and underlying it all was the sweet smell of rotting flesh. The pain in my head was explosive, just as usual, but this one seemed even worse than the others. Disjointed images started flashing through my head – dead bodies, cars slewed to a stop on abandoned roads, buildings on a slant, holes in the road, a huge mushrooms cloud, people running through the streets and screaming, their eyes so wide they looked fit to burst.

**_Aren't you always saying that your family and friends are the most important thing to you? Then why don't you trust them, let them walk a few miles in your shoes?_**

Fang's hand was on my shoulder, shaking me. His voice was in my ears, and I wanted so badly to respond. My mouth was glued shut, and my eyes were squinted against the pain. There was a sharp prickling sensation underlying my ferocious pain, and it was gathering under Fang's hand. Suddenly I could feel him attempting to pull away from me, though his hand didn't move. In fact, it seemed that he _couldn't _move it away from my skin. He gave a little yelp, and I heard one hand move to his temples. The visions were fading, and darkness was clouding my vision. I could see Fang cradling his head with one hand, eyes tight shut – and then everything went black.

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_**Hope you guys enjoyed that - nice cliffhanger soft of thing at the end. Constructive crit or reviews are appreciated, and cookies are on offer. I hope you like them emailed to you! Keep an eye out for the next installment!**_

-Aden Ameryn


	2. Chapter 2

**_AN: Yeah, just in case you were wondering where this story had disappeared to...I was busy. And I had writer's block. And I was concentrating on other important things which did not include Maximum Ride or Fanfiction or practically anything. But yes, I have finally completed chapter two. Sorry, guys! I know some of you have been waiting long enough...so I hope you enjoy it!_**

**_Disclaimer: Don't own anything. JP owns it._ **

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WALK A MILE

**Chapter Two – Disengage**

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Lets rearrange,

**_I wish you were a stranger I could disengage…_**

**_- Over My Head, The Fray_**

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I woke up slowly, my eyes closed. There was a strange absence of feeling in all of my limbs, and I felt almost as if I was floating. The pain in my head had completely disappeared, but some of the images and sounds were dwelling in the back of my mind, and the smell was still in my nostrils. I felt tense and kind of relaxed at the same time. Sound flowed back into my ears, but there was still silence reigning throughout the little glade we were camping in. The air smelt as sweet as ever once the stink faded, and feeling came back quickly. I felt strangely as if I was sitting upright, though I had been lying down before. Maybe I had jolted upright?

Sight came back last. I opened my eyes and they blurred and watered for a moment as I looked at the dim moon. On of my hands was over my face, and the other was touching a solid, warm mass which I was sure was Fang. I glanced down, and then did one of those movie double-takes. My neck clicked, and I slapped a hand to it.

_I _was lying on the ground staring up at me in shock. I stood upright so suddenly that I jarred my back, which was stiff from slumping down. I suddenly wondered how I was feeling things if I was dead, which suddenly seemed very likely. Didn't spirits float around their bodies for a while after they died? Hey, maybe the Voice had finally killed me. That was weird, and it had taken it long enough. I wondered if I was dreaming.

My body had somehow manoeuvred itself into a sitting position. Some of the dreamlike quality of my situation was beginning to fade, and I was actually starting to wonder what the _hell _was going on. My brain was beginning to function again, and man did I have an impressive headache. One of my legs had cramps, as did one hand. I decided that I couldn't be dead – heaven couldn't be that uncomfortable. Unless, of course, I was in the fiery depths of hell, which seemed perfectly likely. I mean, not all kids with wings go to heaven. For one thing, I've used the big dude in the sky's name in vain plenty of time, and I've only been to church once in my entire life.

"Somebody pinch me," I thought aloud, blinking slowly. My voice sounded off – deeper, slower, certainly not what I was used to. I made an _ahh _sort of noise, slapped a hand to my throat once again and promised myself that this was some horrible nightmare. Realization was coming to me – however slowly, it was coming. I closed and opened my eyes, seeing that the Max on the ground was rubbing her eyes and staring up at me.

_Oh, my goodness. I'm not dead!_

That was good to know, but it didn't seem to explain my predicament at all. The Max on the ground was blinking up at me owlishly, rubbing her temples and looking as though she was missing some huge joke.

"Er, Max?" the other me asked with an expression of utter confusion on her – wait, _my – _face.

"Speaking," I replied in that funny voice. The other Max looked shell-shocked.

"Er – you okay?" she asked me. Funny the phrase seemed very familiar in a strange way, as did the way in which she spoke. Realization was playing hard to get, it seemed.

"Just dandy. You?" I replied shortly.

"Erm, fantastic," the other Max said in a strangled voice, "Max, spread your wings."

"Why?" I asked quizzically, knowing that the reason couldn't be good.

"Um…well…just do it, will you!" my body snapped at me.

So I did, with a flourish. It was surprisingly difficult – in fact, all of my movements felt a little clumsy and out of proportion with the size of my body. I felt a little like jelly, but shaking out my wings was a release, as always. A feather fell onto the ground as I stretched them up, the sudden movement catching my eye. I paused at full length, staring at that one feather that glimmered in the pale moonshine. Fearing my shock and growing comprehension would creep into my features, I leant down and picked it up, turning it over in my hand as though the answer would be written on the other side.

It was black - jet black, raven black, night black.

The other me looked as if she was restraining laughter. I guessed that the expression on my face was a delightfully distraught one. I sure wasn't laughing though, because realization had struck, and, man, it weighed a freaking _tonne. _

"Fang?" I asked tentatively. My hands, cradling the black feather, were olive-skinned and large. There were little of my feet to see except for the toes of black combats under black pants. I hardly ever wore black, and I certainly hadn't been before I had become unconscious. The world did a funny loop around my head, and my knees suddenly gave out. It was worse than becoming an Eraser, because at least I knew it was only in the mirror. This was very, very real. Hyper real, in fact.

I reached out with one hand towards the face that was staring back at me. It was the strangest sensation – like looking in a mirror which moved differently from me, and the other Max wasn't my reflection. Fang was me – and I was Fang. My fingers brushed the soft skin of _my _cheek, and 'Max'/Fang flinched away from the sudden sensation. The pads of my fingers suddenly felt as if they were aflame, and I wrenched my clenched fist back to my chest.

"Oh, my God," I said aloud, sounding stunned but swiftly recovering, as was my nature. Now I wanted to laugh, but the emotion seemed entirely inappropriate, so I held it back.

"Next you'll be writing speeches for the president," 'Max'/Fang commented, rolling his eyes, "I blame you entirely for this."

"Hey!" I replied sharply, forgetting our predicament entirely in a moment as our previous argument almost resumed from where it had left off, "this isn't my fault! I did _not _just acquire the power of switching bodies – and if I did, I certainly wouldn't want to switch with you!"

"This definitely isn't a dream – you aren't this obnoxious in any of my dreams," Fang said, examining his new hand with scientific interest.

"I would have thought you would have classified that as a nightmare," I retorted, and then paused for the slightest moment before saying something incredibly idiotic and spiteful, "you dream about me?"

Fang didn't reply, but I could have sworn I saw his eyes flash and his cheeks redden in the slightest. I paused once again, remembering the nightmare I had had earlier with Fang in it. I tried to clamp down on that train of thought as soon as possible, blocking it out. I was nearly my reasonably sensible self by that moment, and I tried as hard as I could to focus on the situation at hand.

"Apart from the fact that we appear to have switched bodies, is there anything else wrong with either of us?" I asked, checking over the body which I had been transferred to. Apart from a pounding headache, I was fine.

"Headache – nothing else," he muttered to the tree over my shoulder, and my eyebrows rose. Clearly our strange situation hadn't turned him into someone who said over five words in one sentence.

Suddenly Fang winced and slapped a hand to his – _my – _forehead, making me jump about six feet into the air. His eyes went from focused to dazed, and I guessed that that was exactly how I looked when the Voice spoke up. He was silent for several moments before uttering one half of the conversation with Voice. It was weird not knowing exactly what it was saying, and not feeling the pain – not that I missed it or anything, but it was definitely strange.

"A mile? Is that figurative or real?" Fang asked, staring at nothing. I wondered if I looked like that when I talked back to the Voice, and decided that that was probably why everyone thought I was mostly insane – Fang certainly looked it.

"A lesson? For Max?" Fang said, and his disjointed words startled of me. Of course this was a lesson, a test, but his statement still surprised me.

Fang's eyes focused again, looking straight at me, and I knew that the Voice was gone. He looked a little shaken and a little pale, but it was my skin and my face. However, I suddenly noticed that his eyes were still his own – dark and eternal and seeming to go on forever. I was sure that I didn't have eyes like that naturally.

"The Voice says that if we walk a mile in each other's shoes then we might get our own back. And yes, the mile is figurative," he said, and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like an insult directed at the Voice.

"I knew you would love the Voice when you met it, Fang," I said cheerfully, "you know what? I really have no idea what to do."

"Great. Because neither do I."

"How's your head?"

"Fine," he scowled at me. I laughed aloud this time, and it sounded awkward. I realized that Fang hardly ever laughed. Or smiled. Or talked. Maybe this was going to be a little difficult.

"First of all, are we going to tell the others about this?" I asked Fang, leaning back against a tree trunk and stretching a little. He deliberated for a little.

"I don't think so," he replied finally.

"So I have to pretend to be you for however long it is until I can have my body back?" I said, my voice sounding the slightest bit panicked.

"Well, yes. And I have to pretend to be you," he replied, as calm as ever. It didn't suit me at all.

"I think I need to sleep on this," I muttered, "Yes, I do."

"You do that," he answered, looking at me like I was mad. Which I pretty much _was. _

I stood up and headed towards where the others were sleeping, but my own voice pulled me back.

"Max – we're going to have to swap stuff. Sleeping bags, mostly," he said seriously, and I was glad that at least one of us had thought ahead. I shook my head and didn't say anything in reply before beginning to walk back again. Fang stayed right where he was, watching me as I left.

Climbing into his sleeping bag rather than my own was weird, definitely. I couldn't get comfortable, at first, but the smell inside it was familiar and it made me doze for a little while. I could still see the images from my brain explosion, and smell the tepid scent of death and decay – they flashed across my mind whenever I closed my eyes.

Sleep came finally, easing any material worries but sending me straight back to a realm of nightmares.

_These are not my memories._

I find myself thinking that as I rattle the bars of cage in front of me. Sure, like anyone who has been subjected to torturous experiments and lived in a metal box made for the average dog for most of their childhood, I am afraid of cages. I have nightmares about cages, but I had never dreamed anything like this before. Usually I was inside the cage and looking out to the world which seemed far more free than I was. Seeing Erasers learning how to hunt. Dreaming of escape. This was different, way different – another _dimension _different.

The walls seem to be crushing me. Panic is in my throat, making my whole chest constricted. Part of me knows that this wasn't real, and that part is a calm observer. Another part is facing blind, explosive fear. There is a copper tang on my tongue and lips. The hands holding the metal bars are not my own – olive-skinned and far different from what I am used to looking at. The bars don't move, don't even make the faintest rattling noise.

I panic, barely processing my actions.

And the bars fall away.

I am free, practically. Except that I am still in the School, surrounded by mad scientists and an army of Erasers.

Without thinking, I run.

_These are not my memories._

That thought is a relief, but it is certainly not going to save me from rabid Erasers. I wonder vaguely who these memories actually belonged to. It should be obvious to me, yet it isn't. I am running much faster now, gliding silently along the corridors. I think that there is a booming alarm going off behind me, but it is faint to my ears. After all, it might just be my head ringing. I don't care – I just want to escape.

I found myself facing a mirror, a dead-end. A familiar face stares back at me. _Fang_. And over his shoulder is the grinning face of Ari. Not my fears or memories, Fang's. And restrained by Ari is me, the real me, Max, fighting tooth and claw. A gun pressed to the side of my head, a clawed finger itching on the trigger. The whole room is growing fuzzy, and I can't tear my eyes away from the mirror.

_Bang._

Dead, my own body slumping and the life draining out of my face.

Ari turns the gun on himself.

_Bang._

Another dead body to add to the collection. Heart pounding at an unimaginable rate, _thump thump thump, _even faster than normal. I turn away from the mirror, look to the floor, expecting two bodies. There is nothing there. The white linoleum smells like blood and death, but there is nothing there.

I wake.

_These are not my memories._

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**_Slightly melodramatic, I know, but I thrive on things like that. Oh, and well done to _Grace, _the reviewer who guessed what was going to happen! Darn, some people are good. Though I did make it a little obvious with the whole 'walk a mile' thing. But you guys are just going to hang on - and you could be hanging for a while, just in case you hadn't already done enough waiting - to see what happens! I love writing dream scenes! I just love them!_**

_**Anway, please do review - I'll love you forever! Okay, maybe not, but I'll be very grateful! And I might actually update a little faster...maybe!**_

**_-Aden Ameryn (late for her own funeral, apparently, never mind the posting of her own story)_**


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